


true north

by frequencial



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 23:28:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3955948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frequencial/pseuds/frequencial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rain fell ceaselessly from the sky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	true north

Cold rain fell from the gray white clouds that covered the sky like a perfect blanket. Few cars traveled the normally busy streets of Washington, D.C., and many small shops had taken an off day. Even those stores that were still open saw little customers. A blanket of forlornness had covered the capital. From the square blared the national anthem of the United States, sounding much more forlorn and sorrowful on this particular day.

Crowds of people stood on the grass and sidewalks holding an umbrella in one hand and their right placed over their heart. Some sang along silently while others had their lips pressed into thin lines as they solemnly paid their respects to their fallen hero. The last lines of the song faded wistfully and there was an almost overwhelming silence heavy with sorrow and broken only by whimpering sobs and the patter of the falling rain.

A man, followed by a soldier holding a black umbrella over him, stepped up to the podium on the platform that was decorated with the American flag. In front of it was a large wooden casket with another large flag draped over it and flanked by four officers standing at attention. The man cleared his throat and after looking down at the podium for a minute, turned his gaze towards the vast crowd. "On this day," he said, voice ringing clear and professional, "we are commemorating the death of a beloved man and hero: Captain Steven Grant Rogers, otherwise known as Captain America." He paused to look down at his notes once more before continuing.

As the man spoke, the large blank flatscreen mounted in the square flicked on. A moving black and white image showed the late Captain grinning wide as he stood next to his longtime friend and comrade Bucky Barnes. The text on the bottom read _From 1918-2014_.

"Captain Rogers sacrificed his life to protect us, and secure a better tomorrow for the America that he had grown up in. And for that, we owe him the utmost thanks for his service as an American soldier and citizen. Thank you," the speaker concluded, directing a slight nod towards the casket. He stepped back from the podium, followed by the soldier that held an umbrella above him.

Rain fell ceaselessly from the sky.

Out of the way of the crowds, holding an umbrella he had received from a woman handing them out, stood one man. He stared, transfixed, at the clip that was playing over and over on the screen. Brown eyes drank in every little detail; the way that his mission's eyes lit up and how he seemed to be genuinely happy standing side by side with the other man, Bucky.

Himself.

His metal arm cradled in his jacket pocket, his hand balled into a tight fist. It was a dead giveaway to what he had become, the chaos and strife that had resulted because of him.

_This_ , had happened because of him.

He had finished his mission, hadn't he? He had eliminated the main target for them. And it was strange, how he felt afterward. The feelings normally lacking when he completed a mission had flared when he stared at his lifeless body.

Confusion, sorrow, regret.

For a brief minute, he believed he was broken. He wasn't suppose to feel things, only complete his jobs as seamlessly as possible. Still, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the mission that had opposed him to the very end. His weary mind told him that this man, the one no longer breathing and gone limp, had been his friend. He had known him, known him for a while, a long time even, his brain said. Yet, he killed him with his own hands.

He stared as they brought the casket to a vehicle and put it in while a slow tune played over the speakers. The vehicle drove slowly out of the square and down the street. Behind it followed other black cars. The crowds then began to disperse, shuffling along to their own cars to go to work, home, or wherever they needed to.

He, though, gripped the handle of the umbrella tight and stood in the rain. He couldn't look away from the screen until it was shut off and it was only then that he really felt the fall cold creeping in, felt the crushing guilt of the past years rushing in like the waves on the ocean upon the shore.

**Author's Note:**

> There is probably some misinformation in it, but I wrote this some time ago and thought I would just post it as is. I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
